


flesh and bone

by nasa



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 14:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16578386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/pseuds/nasa
Summary: “You or Rogers?” they ask, brandishing a knife or a gun or a flame.“Me,” Tony says, over and over again. “Me, me, me,” always me.





	flesh and bone

“You or Rogers?” they ask.

“Me,” Tony says, over and over again. “Me, me, me,” always me.

“Tony,” Steve begs from the corner, “Tony, don’t, please -”

“Me,” Tony says, and they take a blow torch to his shoulder, a knife to his ribs, a crowbar to his kneecap.

“You or Rogers?” they ask, and they hold up the newest torture device. Tony glances across the room at Steve, hanging on the wall opposite Tony. He is dirty and tired, and the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen.

“Me,” Tony says, and lets them tear him apart. It’s okay, he tells himself, as he grits his teeth to keep from screaming. It’s okay. As long as it isn’t Steve.

-

HYDRA takes them on a Wednesday.

It’s a mission - an average mission, a mutant gone rogue in Lublin and the Polish government calling for support. Natasha’s in the middle of a deep undercover mission in Myanmar, and Thor is on Asgard, so just Steve and Tony go, leaving Clint and Bruce to protect New York if needed.

The mission goes sideways astonishingly fast. One moment, the mutant is throwing cars in the town square and screaming in broken English about the twisted agenda of the Western nations who dominate world politics, and the next the entire block is washing out in red light, and Steve and Tony go down.

They wake up in the cell. It’s small, but not so tiny that Steve and Tony can touch. It’s dark, and moldy, and damp, clearly underground. Steve blinks at Tony in the darkness.

“I guess we should’ve brought Bruce after all,” Tony jokes, and Steve quirks a half-smile at him.

“Assuming they don’t have enhanced cuffs for him as well,” Steve says, and Tony winces when he notices the shackles they’ve got Steve tied up in - big and thick and blinking blue with electricity.

“Did you try to -”

“Yeah,” Steve says, shaking his head. “Electrocuted me.”

Tony winces again. “Well, that’s not good,” he says. His own shackles are more rudimentary, simple cast iron, but Tony’s not in the suit anymore, and his bracelets have been taken away. Dimly, Tony registers that this means HYDRA must have his suit, and he spares a moment to hope that JARVIS wasn’t shut down in the same explosion that took down Steve and Tony. He at least knows the self-destruct procedure.

“How long have you been awake?” Tony asks.

“Few hours,” Steve says. “I was worried about you. Your head is bleeding, I thought -” he cuts himself off.

“I’m fine,” Tony says. He is, mostly. He’s pretty sure his ribs are cracked, and that is definitely a goose egg on his temple, and, yeah, he’s got some severe deep-tissue bruising on his legs, but all in all, pretty standard for a fight.

Steve smiles at him. “They haven’t said what they want yet,” he says. “I think maybe they’re waiting for you to wake up.”

Tony squints at him, an unspoken question, and Steve juts his chin at the ceiling a few feet above Tony. “Look,” he says, and Tony manages to crane his neck enough to see the blinking red light; they’re being watched, then.

Tony sighs. “Well, that’s extra not good,” he says, and Steve’s opening his mouth to say something when there’s a clatter of noise outside the cell. Steve stiffens, fists clenching, as though he can fight tied up.

“Stand down, soldier,” Tony says, and Steve visibly forces himself to relax as the cell door opens. Three men enter, all stereotypical evil goons: dark clothes, twisted noses, knobby scars tracing rivers down their faces.

“Captain,” one drawls, sending a smirk in Steve’s direction. “Mr. Stark. What a pleasure to have you here.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re an evil genius, jump to the point here. What do you want?”

The goon looks unphased. “An outlined explanation of how to synthesize vibranium.”

Tony snorts. “Oh, you’re funny, I’ll give you that.”

The goon just shrugs. “You’ll tell us eventually. And in the meantime, we get the fun of pulling it out of you.”

Tony’s eyes flick down to the tool belts on the three men - knives, and tasers, and guns, and other little objects he can’t discern in this dim light - but he doesn’t let his expression change. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about my track record with kidnappings,” he tells them, “But it hasn’t gone well for people who’ve tried it in the past.”

“I agree,” the goon acquises. “But you were captured alone, then. Now we have your partner.”

Tony’s eyes flick to Steve’s, and for the first time, he feels a real spike of fear jolt through his chest. “Steve’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, I disagree,” the goon says. “He’s with you, after all, and you’ve got everything to do with this. Which is why we’re going to play a little game.”

One of the goons behind him pulls something from his belt: a hammer, Tony realizes. “It’s called Him or Me. The rules are simple. We show you what we’ll do, and you decide if you want us to do it to you or to the Captain here. If you don’t decide, we’ll hurt both of you. The game keeps going until you break - or you die, in which case, we’ll toss your body in the ocean and extract as much of the serum as we can out of Cap here before giving him the same treatment.” The goon smiles, expression perfectly tranquil. “Are the rules clear?”

Tony’s eyes meet Steve’s over the goons’ heads. Steve’s eyes are wide, lips pursed so tight they’re almost white. “Clear,” Tony hears himself say.

“Great,” the goon says with a grin. “Then let’s begin.” He holds out a hand, and his friend passes him the hammer. “I think we’ll start slow, here. Something simple. Maybe a broken rib.”

“Tony -” Steve starts, but the goon flicks his hand and suddenly he’s arching up against his restraints as electricity shoots through his body.

“This is Mr. Stark’s game,” the goon says. “No interruptions. So, Iron Man, what will it be? You or him?”

Me, Steve mouths at Tony. Me.

Tony averts his gaze. “Me,” he says.

“Tony,” Steve says again.

The goon hefts the hammer in the air and steps forward. Tony squeezes his eyes shut, and waits for the pain.

-

The game continues in the same fashion for hours.

It starts with a broken rib, then moves to his toes: a series of quick dislocations leaving Tony’s feet burning. Then there are small cuts up and down his legs, mainly concentrated on his thighs, all of which sting like a bitch and bleed so much Tony swears he starts getting dizzy. They move onto burns, after that, littering little dots up and down his arms, and it’s after all that, when Tony still refuses to break, that they start to escalate.

“Next,” the HYDRA goon says. Tony is still panting from the last injury, the burn of a newly-broken wrist radiating up his arm. This time, the guy pulls something out of his pocket; for a long moment, Tony doesn’t recognize it, but when he does, his blood runs cold.

“No,” he says, the first articulate thing he’s managed other than me in days.

The HYDRA agent smirks at him. In his hand, he’s holding the same twisted device that Loki had used to infiltrate the Stuttgart art museum. Not my eyes, Tony thinks.

“You or Rogers?”

“No,” Tony says desperately, wriggling back in his chains. “No, neither one of us, don’t -”

“Tony?” Steve asks from the other side of the room, leaning forward in his bonds as much as he’s able. “Tony, what is it, what -”

“Remember,” the HYDRA agent says, ignoring Steve entirely. “If you don’t choose, we do it to both of you. Or, of course, you can tell us what we want to know.”

Tony swallows hard, looking down at the device and then up at Steve’s face. God. God, he can’t hurt Steve, of course he’s not going to hurt Steve, but his sight -

Tony spares a moment to take in all he can about Steve’s face. The blue of his eyes, the strength of his jawline, the furrow between his brows -

“Me,” Tony says, voice coming out thick and wet. God, is he crying? Might not be able to cry after this, he thinks.

“Tony,” Steve says, starting to sound truly desperate now. “Tony, what is it, what are they doing -”

The HYDRA agent turns, smirking, to show Steve the device held in his hand. “Eyes are such valuable things, aren’t they?” he asks, and Steve goes completely still. “Especially for a pilot. I wonder, will he be able to fly the Iron Man suit if he cannot see?” He looks down at the device in his hand, almost contemplative. “I guess we shall see,” he says, and turns back to Tony.

“No,” Steve begs from behind him. “No, no, do it to me, do it to me, please, Tony, tell them, do it to me -”

The HYDRA agent raises the device to eye level, and Tony braces himself, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on Steve’s face around the tears blurring his vision. He wants the last thing he sees to be Steve’s face, for the last thing to be -

There’s a horrible wrenching sound and the sharp buzzing of an electric sting, and suddenly Steve is only hanging from the wall by one hand. The HYDRA agent turns immediately, tossing down the device and picking up a knife instead, but before he can do anything with it, Steve’s got his skull cracked open with a swing with the heavy cuff still locked around his wrist. With another wrench and a shout and a sound like something snapping, Steve’s got the other cuff off the wall as well. He drops to his knees on the stone floor, but he doesn’t stay down for long.

“Tony,” he groans, pushing himself to his feet. He snaps Tony’s chains easily, one in each hand, but before Tony can do much more than sink to the floor, the door is banging open, and Steve has to turn to dispatch the HYDRA soldiers rushing towards them.

Dimly, Tony thinks that he should be helping, but his whole body is aching, old and new pains blaring sharp along his bones. All he wants to do is sleep, all he wants -

“Hey, come here, come with me,” Steve says, and oh, okay, Steve is back. Tony forces himself to cooperate, dragging himself upright with his forearm braced on Steve’s shoulder, his broken wrist hanging limply behind Steve’s neck.

“I’m getting us out of here,” Steve says firmly, his jaw tight. “I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore, I swear.”

Tony wants to say something to that, but now that he’s up again, all of the blood is rushing out of his head, and he’s really dizzy. He thinks some of the wounds on his legs must have opened up again, because his thighs are feeling slick and his chest is feeling cold, and suddenly it’s too much to keep his eyes open.

“Tony,” Steve says, “Tony, stay with me, Tony -”

Tony passes out as Steve lifts him into his arms.

-

Tony wakes up in a hospital bed.

“Ugh,” he groans, turning his head to bury it in his pillow. There are machines beeping and stupidly bright lights burning against his eyelids and scratchy sheets, and all of it hurts.

“Tony?” someone asks, and then someone is squeezing Tony’s hand in theirs, their big, warm hand.

“Steve,” Tony manages, and forces his eyes open.

For a second, the light almost blinds him; it takes him a moment of feverish blinking before the room swims into focus. Pepper’s here, curled in an armchair in the corner, asleep; so are Clint and Bruce and Natasha. Tony wonders when Natasha came back from her mission.

“Hey,” Steve says, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of the hand that’s clasped in his. Tony takes a moment to scan Steve - for the most part, he looks relatively okay. He’s got a faint bruise on his temple, almost healed, and a brace around his wrist - broken, maybe? Tony frowns.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, and Steve looks like he’s going to cry.

“Am I okay?” he asks, voice thick. “Tony, you almost let them kill you.”

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of choices,” Tony argues, and Steve shakes his head, his grip on Tony’s hand tightening.

“I have a healing factor,” he says. “Tony, why didn’t you -”

“Just because you have a healing factor doesn’t mean things don’t hurt,” Tony says. “I wasn’t about to let them hurt you just because I didn’t want to tell them - give them -”

Steve raises his free hand to cup Tony’s jaw. Tony closes his eyes. “They could have killed you,” he whispers. “They could have killed you, and I would have had to - to watch them do it.”

“It’s my tech they wanted,” Tony says without opening his eyes. “It’s my responsibility. If they - if they were going to ruin someone, it should have -” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard. “How did we get out of there, anyway?” he asks, blinking his eyes back open. “After the broken wrist, I’m kind of fuzzy.”

Steve's mouth twitches down but he doesn’t comment on whatever’s bothering him. “I managed to break out of the restraints,” he says. “And then I - killed them.”

Tony blinks at him. “But, how?” he asks. “Those restraints were electrocuted, and strong, you couldn’t -”

“I was motivated,” Steve interrupts, and Tony blinks at him, trying to remember - what -

Will he be able to fly the Iron Man suit if he cannot see?

“Steve,” Tony says, feeling his throat tighten. “Steve, did you -”

“I was not going to let them blind you,” Steve says, shuffling, if possible, closer to Tony. “Nobody gets to take flying away from you.”

Tony has to blink hard against the sudden wave of tears. “Steve,” he says, and Steve shakes his head and pushes himself up out of his chair, so he can perch on the side of Tony’s bed.

“I’m just sorry it took me so long,” he says, settling so both of his hands are threaded through Tony’s hair. His thumbs rest against Tony’s temples, pressing ever so slightly, just enough to relieve some of the ache.

Tony wraps his hand around Steve’s bicep, pulling him closer so Steve rests his forehead against Tony’s. “You could have hurt yourself,” Tony says hoarsely, and Steve shakes his head, just slightly. His eyes are closed, but this close, Tony can see the tears lingering on his lashes. So he has been crying, then.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Steve whispers, and Tony doesn’t say anything, because how could he? He’s not going to promise to never do it again - he would, exactly the same way, if they got thrown back into that cell right now.

“I don’t think you understand,” Steve croaks, “What it would do to me, if you - if something happened to you. I would rather lose any of my limbs - all of my limbs - than lose you.”

“Steve,” Tony says, clutching at Steve’s arm, “Steve, don’t you think it’s the same for me?”

Steve shakes his head, just slightly. “Please,” he whispers, “Please.” Tony’s not sure who he’s talking to anymore.

“Come here,” he murmurs, tugging at Steve. For a split second, Steve follows his movement, but then seems to realize what Tony’s doing and jolts back into his own body. “No,” he says, stiffening as he pulls back. “You’re hurt enough already, I can’t -”

“Come here,” Tony repeats. “I want -” He can’t find the right words to finish the sentence, but Steve seems to hear them anyway because after a moment he sighs and lets Tony pull him up onto the bed.

With a bit of work and Steve’s careful help, Tony manages to maneuver himself over enough that Steve can tuck up beside him, his head on Tony’s shoulder, hand just barely resting on Tony’s chest. He presses a kiss to Tony’s shoulder, and Tony lets his cheek rest on the top of Steve’s head, feeling his soft hair brushing against his skin.

“I love you,” Tony says.

Tony can feel the bobbing of Steve’s throat. “I love you, too,” he says eventually. He starts rubbing slow, barely-there circles over Tony’s chest, and the feeling reminds Tony of when he was a kid, and he was sick, and Jarvis would rub vapor rub over his chest. It’s calming. Tony drifts off in Steve’s arms

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'you're somebody else' by flora cash
> 
> find me at nasafic.tumblr.com


End file.
